


Isolation

by anonymouST (anonymo_su)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bashir Doing Doctor Things, Developing Relationship, Early Relationship, Emotional Repression, Gen, Gossip, M/M, Morning After, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Season 3, Secret Relationship, self-sabotage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymo_su/pseuds/anonymouST
Summary: An unexpected medical quarantine is established in the Habitat Ring in the middle of the night, and Garak and Bashir are stuck in it together. It just so happens that they've also just slept together for the first time. Bad timing? Actuallyperfecttiming, as it turns out.(Definitely going to get Serious on the emotional side of things, but there's some fun in here as well.)Features several oblique, as well as not-so-oblique, references toA Stitch in Time, though this is perfectly readable without that.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**"This area is now under medical quarantine. Further information will follow shortly."**

The computer's announcement startled Bashir awake, and the full lighting that accompanied it did not help matters one bit.

The dissipation of the initial shock gave his other reaction a chance to settle in: why TODAY? Why NOW?

"Computer, what's the time?" he said, stretching out all the sleepiness in his bare arms.

**"The time is 02 41 hours."**

"Really? God, what a wakeup call," he spoke aloud, fully expecting his new bedmate to agree. Hell of a first night they'd spent together, gratifying and intense and romantic all at once. What time had they even got to sleep? He'd been far too _preoccupied_ to obsessively watch his body clock, but it couldn't have been earlier than, say, twenty five hundred by the time they'd finally surrendered themselves to the other use of his bed.

Only after he'd clambered his way off that train of thought did he notice there was no one in that bed with him.

"Garak?"

No answer.

Surely he'd just gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, or perhaps grab a midnight snack. That seemed likely, come to think of it. Garak always had been a snacker.

 _He better not have touched my dried papaya,_ he thought, getting out of bed to investigate. He regretted the cold air as soon as he got up, so his blanket became a warm cloak to guard him on his Garak hunt.

No Cardassians in the bathroom...

No tailors in the living room, either, and certainly not lurking anywhere near his snacks. He even checked the last item produced by the replicator, just to check if Garak _might_ have been snacking before his disappearance, but no. Nothing but the usual Tarkalean tea.

Considering this and the newly-declared medical quarantine, his mind raced with the possibilities. Had Garak been the cause of the quarantine? Had he been made aware of it before the fact, and fled just in time? Had he maybe even disappeared _because_ of whatever medical emergency had struck?

Honestly, anything was possible with that man. He'd _hope_ to rule out the malicious or cowardly explanations; if Garak cared enough about him to sleep with him, yet not enough to save him from impending medical disaster... 

... he'd _like_ to think that the strength of their relationship eliminated those by default, but...

"Dr. Lija to Dr. Bashir?"

It was his combadge, still sitting in the bedroom. Probably somewhere among all the clothes discarded last night.

There was a thought – had Garak left his clothes behind? That could help determine... something, at least. That he hadn't just been beamed out of bed, naked as the day he hatched.

"Dr. Lija to Dr. Bashir. Come in, Dr. Bashir." In the same formal tone, with a rising edge of cynical frustration: "Damn you, Dr. Bashir."

Alright, alright.

Stumbling back into the bedroom, Bashir went on hands and knees (blanket still draped over him) to find his combadge and/or Garak's clothes in last night's pile. It quickly became clear that Garak hadn't left anything behind, which felt oddly like a disappointment, and as for the combadge—

"Dr. Lija to Docto—"

Bashir slapped the (clothing-covered) source of Lija Kerin's increasingly insistent voice, and gave her the response she'd been waiting for: "Lija, what is going on at this ungodly hour?"

"Ungodly for you, perhaps. I just had a rather filling lunch, though this is turning the aftertaste a little sour. Kind of you to join us, though. And so promptly!" Lija was the regular night shift doctor. Bashir only ever spoke to her on shift changes, and always found her rather snippy to deal with. Probably came with the night shift territory. "We just found out that the quarantine zone happens to include your quarters, and thank the Prophets you weren't in someone else's tonight, because that means none of us have to go in there."

"I appreciate the gratitude," Bashir grumbled. "Any chance you could tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Patience, Bashir, I was getting to that. Thirty minutes ago, a night shift engineer named Kurvan Ros started reporting extreme lightheadedness and fatigue, and told us that the other Bajorans on the team were starting to experience the same symptoms too. All of the Federation types working with them were just _fine_ , of course. We sealed off your entire level of the Habitat Ring, and beamed in some medical equipment to where the engineers were working. All we need now is one of the resident Federation types who knows their way around a sick Bajoran, and luckily for you, you fit the bill. Ready to charge in and save the day?"

"Don't worry, Lija," he grumbled. "Your hero is here." A couple of years ago, he might've reacted like an excited puppy to a chance to 'save the day', regardless of the irony in Dr. Lija's tone. That excitement didn't come as easily now that he'd hit his thirties. And it was hard to be excited about _anything _after interrupted sleep at not even oh-three-hundred.__

__Right now, he wanted to get this done. And he wanted to get back to bed._ _

__(He also kind of wanted to find Garak. That 'kind of wanted' was threatening to mutate into a 'desperately needed', but the professional in him was forcing that into the backseat, no matter how much it brattily screamed for his attention.)_ _

__After giving himself an adequate morning-after wash as quickly he could manage – who wants to deal with Bajorans under a coating of the various fluids a Cardassian can produce? – he pulled on his uniform and stumbled his way out of the door, pulling his pants up as he went. Not the neatest he'd ever been, but it'd do._ _

__An announcement rang out, this time in Dr. Lija's voice. "All Bajoran residents of Habitat Ring Level 19 – if you're a Bajoran hearing this, then this means you – please, do NOT open your door; DON'T leave your quarters. If you already have, then make your way around the Habitat Ring to the medical station we're setting up. Just keep walking along, it's in one of the intersections, you'll know it when you see it. If you can't make it there, we'll send someone to find you. I'll keep you updated."_ _

__Out the door now, and he looked up and down the hallway – there! An assortment of engineers, some standing (clad in yellow-topped uniforms), some lying down (in grey-shouldered green). Next to them were some portable consoles, a couple of carts loaded up with equipment..._ _

__... and a Cardassian. The only one on the station._ _

__"Garak!" he called as he sprinted over._ _

__Seeing him there was a relief; seeing him _helping_ , doubly so. Looked like he'd slipped into the role of nurse; presently, he was kneeling over a patient's head in order to attach an oxygen mask._ _

__"Doctor!" he greeted Bashir when he was close enough. "I've set up some simple monitoring on your newest patients, with assistance from your charming colleague Dr. Lija, but there's only so much for a layman to do. A drop in blood oxygenation appears to be the biggest common abnormality so far, but these masks are helping to manage that."_ _

__Bashir rested a hand on Garak's back, leant down to peer at his handiwork over his shoulder, then turned his own head so that his excited grin came face to face with scaled ridges: "Garak, I could _kiss_ you right now!"_ _

__"Please, Doctor, not in front of the patients."_ _

__Bashir quirked a 'maybe later' eyebrow, which got no response but a poker face. Oh well. The quicker he sorted out these patients, the sooner their 'maybe later' would be._ _

__Right, then! Down to work! "Bashir to Dr. Lija?"_ _

__"You're with the patients," she observed in monotone._ _

__"I am, and it looks like your crew in the Infirmary are getting the vital signs transmitted to you, so I won't repeat what you already know."_ _

__"We're in your debt, Bashir."_ _

__"Of course." He couldn't get himself too distracted by the curmudgeonly shift doctor, just as he couldn't fling himself into Garak's arms for a bonus round here and now. "Symptoms aren't showing too badly just yet. All conscious. One patient, who I presume was our patient zero, is looking very pale; the rest aren't too discoloured _just_ yet. Has their condition worsened any since they were given oxygen?"_ _

__"Hasn't stopped getting worse. Only the tiniest blip in the rate of decline. We even suspected that your Cardassian friend hadn't even applied the oxygen masks at all."_ _

__"Well, I assure you that he _has!_ " Bashir flared with second-hand resentment. He knew damn well what impression the Cardassians had left, and he _also_ knew how very un-Garak it was. "He's not trying to claw back the Occupation, Lija. I don't fully trust him myself, but what reason would he have to arbitrarily deny them oxygen? He's helping, and you should be grateful for it."_ _

__Silence on the com for a second or two, then Lija again: "You know, we did check. His quarters aren't on the quarantined level. I guess now we know what he's doing there, and I gotta say, I'm kinda disappointed. Even _you_ could do better than a spoonhead."_ _

__Bashir had to catch himself, force himself to breathe in and out a few times, and gave the most measured reply he could under the circumstances: "And even _you_ could do better than prying into this when we've got lives at stake."_ _

__Lija moved on immediately: "We'll need you to find the cause of this, and get it under control. We're also picking up four Bajoran life signs outside their quarters: three on the move, one not. We can update you on their positions whenever you ask. Can also beam you in an anti-grav lift to get them to the med units, because the last thing we need is half-dead Bajorans stumbling about; seen enough of that for one lifetime. Think you can remember all that?"_ _

__"Of course."_ _

__"Then get to it, and keep me posted."_ _

__He looked back at Garak, who seemed too absorbed in studying the medical readouts to make eye contact. Damn, he really was taking this seriously. How much of this did he understand?_ _

__Two Starfleet engineers, who appeared to be the only other members of the engineering team, were leaning against the wall and talking under their breath. Only now did Bashir notice what they were looking at: a large excavation into the opposite wall, exposing all sorts of inscrutable innards._ _

__"Is this what you were working on?" he asked, walking over._ _

__"Yeah. Trying to root out some parts that needed replacing," said the taller one, a human lieutenant with freckles and crooked teeth._ _

__Her friend, an ensign with Betazoid-looking dark eyes, nodded. "Tough job. Then Ros here started feeling faint, and we figured we'd best not continue."_ _

__"Good choice on that," Bashir confirmed. "Is there any chance you two could look into what's already been done, see if you could find an explanation for all this?"_ _

__"Sure."_ _

__"Fantastic. I'll be off to deal with the other patients we're about to be getting – the ones who had the bright idea to leave their quarters in a quarantine. Garak, you're with me."_ _

__"I am?" He sounded distracted; even now, Garak wasn't breaking his unwavering stare at the monitors. "But Doctor, who will be looking after the existing patients?"_ _

__"Good point. Lieutenant, you lead the investigation into whatever was being done with that wall. Ensign, please keep in contact with Dr. Lija. These consoles can alert you to any significant change in their vital signs. If that happens, let her know." The ensign nodded, and scurried into their place in front of the consoles._ _

__Garak didn't even move aside to accommodate them, nor did he face Bashir. "Doctor, you really must reconsider. I'm already in contact with Dr. Lija, after all. And I'm sure the unfortunate Bajorans you're hunting down wouldn't be thrilled to see a Cardassian in their semi-conscious state."_ _

__"These ones already have, and they were fine," was Bashir's retort. "And I'm sure our good friend Dr. Lija, as charming as she can be, would rather be corresponding with a Starfleet officer. Now come on!"_ _

__Garak couldn't argue any further. No one had time to. He darted forward into the hallway, opposite to the direction from which the doctor had come in – and just in time, seeing that Bashir had made a lunge for his hand. Having the doctor _take him by the hand_ would have been even more of a humiliation than he'd already come to suffer tonight._ _

__No way out of this one._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Lija had told them, thankfully without too many barbs, the location of the closest Bajoran life sign; conveniently, this also happened to be the one with the worst vitals. Bashir and Garak were running there at a swift pace that, while easily sustainable for the younger and more athletic of the two, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for the other.

Garak silently lamented how he'd fallen out of fitness in his enforced new profession. It had been hard to feel rewarded for exercising when the wire overpowered the endorphins produced by physical exertion; years out of active service, he realised with shame that he simply hadn't seen it as necessary. Just one of many habits he'd allowed to fall away in his exile.

Not good enough. To think Tain had only just disappeared into Dominion clutches, and here he was making mistakes that would have him roll in his grave...

At least their fast pace did bring a different kind of comfort: Bashir's breath was too occupied with physical exertion to rattle off any awkward lines of inquiry. For that, in the moment, he was grateful – and yet he knew he couldn't procrastinate for too long. The question of his sudden absence in Bashir's bed would have to be dealt with. He believed he had devised a satisfactory excuse for the time being, something that would quell the doctor's most immediate concerns, but there still remained the matter of his initial intent. Though another attempt could come later, his discovery now meant that his most auspicious opportunity had gone to waste.

"Here!" The doctor had sighted a prone Bajoran form up ahead, right at the intersection to which Dr. Lija had directed them. The patient's upper torso had fallen on top of his arms, as if he had been trying to hold his body upright – and then failed.

Bashir reached him first. "Bashir to Lija. I've reached the first one. I need an oxygen mask and an anti-grav unit to my location."

"Got it." And the requested items appeared. Dr. Lija seemed far more succinct now that the 'pleasantries' were out of the way.

"Garak, can you help me?" Bashir had gone round to lift the patient's feet, and gestured to Garak at the other end.

"Of course." Together, the two of them lifted the body onto the large flat surface of the anti-grav unit. Not the most comfortable-looking hospital bed on this station, but it would do the trick for patient transport; its patients were generally unconscious, which rendered the comfort something of a moot point.

In one smooth motion, Bashir had swept the oxygen mask from the floor onto the patient's mouth. Now he was programming directions into the anti-grav unit's computer. Garak briefly marvelled at the man's ability to accurately recall the precise distance of their travel – a feeling that was quickly interrupted by the now-familiar pang of guilt.

Bashir pressed the button that sent the unit on its way, and then... "So, this quarantine!" He just couldn't let the silence go unbroken. "Pretty impolite of it to happen _now_ , don't you think?"

"Indeed, Doctor. If one were to ask me my least favourite qualities of medical threats to life, their _impoliteness_ would surely be among the first I'd name." Bashir was looking in his direction again; he gave his usual facilitating smile.

"Could be worse, though," the doctor added. "At least this time we're not getting constant recordings of Gul Dukat."

Garak grimaced. "Even I must bow to your Federation optimism on that front. Every day in which I avoid hearing his voice is made more pleasant for it."

While part of him still wanted to blissfully lose himself in conversation with this man – as he had done so many times before – he knew he couldn't do so now. "Once you're done with that, let's ask your esteemed colleague where our next beleaguered Bajoran is to be found."

Bashir maintained eye contact for a second longer, then nodded and tapped his combadge. "Bashir to Lija. Where's the next one?"

"Quite a way away, but easy to find. They've gone back into their quarters – F61, to be specific. They were up and moving a little earlier, so I'd wager they're not doing too badly."

"We're on our way." Bashir stood up, as did Garak, and set a slower pace this time...

... one that seemed it would allow for talking.

"Garak, can I ask you something?"

Here it was. "I imagine you're about to."

"When the quarantine started, you were already out of bed and helping the engineering team. How did you know?"

Thankfully, he'd phrased it in about the best possible way for what Garak had in mind. 

"You must be a sounder sleeper than I, Doctor. A skill I've developed over the years, one that's proven to be quite useful when dealing with _unhappy customers_ , is waking up whenever I sense a disturbance. And Kurvan Ros, before lack of oxygen rendered him unable to talk, was making quite a fuss about his sudden condition."

"I can imagine. And you heard all that?"

"Heard, sensed... it's not quite one thing or another. More a combined survival sense, with various factors involved. I believe humans might have some degree of this, though I feel it's sharper in the Cardassian psyche." Though not as sharp in his as it used to be... and not sharp enough to sense the engineers.

Bashir nodded along. As Garak had hoped, it seemed the lie had enough plausibility to satisfy him, with the talk of an innate survival sense interesting him enough to occupy his mind elsewhere.

"Just another of our many human failings, then." 

"Indeed. As soon as I came of age, I was sent to an institution where my survival skills would be honed to a fine point. Human youths, on the other hand, seem to be so incessantly coddled that I really don't see how your kind ever won a single war."

"Garak, you do realise you could've woken me up earlier. You didn't have to help them alone."

An abrupt change of subject. Interesting. None of his usual eagerness to spar – no doubt this topic held some soreness for him.

Garak noted it in his mind, then humoured the sudden change in direction. "Oh, I didn't want to be an imposition. Knowing how... _active_ you were the night before, I presumed that you'd appreciate the additional rest."

"Ohh, Garak." His gaze and his grin were pointed downwards, playing coy. "I want to disagree with that, but I really can't. With the workout you gave me, I could've slept by your side a thousand years. Or more."

He couldn't allow himself to be lured in by that. He couldn't. How should he be engaging with him right now? Could anything quieten the alarm bells ringing in his mind?

"Dax to Bashir."

Had her communication come through a mere second later, Garak's silence would have turned damning. He silently thanked the lieutenant for her interruption.

Bashir hit his combadge. "Jadzia? What are you doing awake?"

"I went down to Ops to see a friend on the night crew, and as soon as I arrived, I saw everyone in a panic about this. It's only a skeleton crew down there, so I thought I might help out. I hear the Infirmary's analysing an air sample they got from Ensign Kan down there. As for me, I've been talking through some possible causes with Lieutenant Hjort."

"Have you come up with anything?"

"Air sample analysis is still underway, and Hjort's still searching around inside that wall – I'm impressed how anyone can understand how this station holds together. But there is one conclusion I've come to. Whatever this is, if it's only affecting Bajorans? Out of all the humanoids who've been in that area? Humanoid biology is too similar for this to be a coincidence. No, this is almost definitely deliberate. And what's more... who had control of this station before us, with the means to plant something and a motive to target Bajorans in particular?"

"It's Cardassian, then. But what? A weapon? Crowd control? One of their little gifts at the end of the occupation?"

"I'd like to know too, but for now, it doesn't matter. First priority is to stop it." She paused. "Anything you could help us with, Garak?"

Garak immediately took back his silent thanks. Apparently his presence there was common knowledge now. Naturally.

"If I can, I'll be sure to let you know."

A carefully modulated response. He left just enough ambiguity there to pick up again later, if he so wished.

"Got it. You two have fun now!" The gossip-loving gleefulness practically bled through the speaker.

"I must say, I wasn't hoping that we'd become the talk of the station quite so quickly," Garak noted, and this time without a hint of a lie. The two of them _had_ managed to keep the changing nature of their relationship under wraps... until now.

"Well, which of us will be the one to fake their death?" Of course Bashir was taking it more lightly than he was.

"You're the surgeon here, Doctor, as well as the one with access to the morgue – _legal_ access, at least. I'm sure we can figure something out. Alter my features however you'd like, as long as it keeps _them_ off our trail. Just don't give me a receding hairline; I'm still rather vain at heart."

"I wouldn't dream of it! No, I'm leaving your hair exactly as it is. I need all the grip I can get." Followed by a quiet dirty snicker. "I don't think I could bear to alter your face, either. It might doom our little plan here, but I like your ridges exactly the way they are."

It was an open, honest look Bashir gave him then. A beautiful smile with more than a trace of bashfulness. Garak had to make himself keep moving, to not let this wonder of a man stop him in his tracks. This was _love,_ pure and true, and Garak...

Garak...

Garak responded, hollow. "And I've grown quite the tolerance for your smug human face."

A face which now wore a hint of disappointment. Good. _Get used to it,_ Garak wanted to say. _That's all I'm going to give you._

Hiding his feelings in his clenched fist, Garak dug his nails into his palm and berated himself for letting sentiment take him this far.


End file.
